


Five Times Jazz Watched Prowl's Family from Outside & The Time He Was Invited to Join It

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: Trope Bingo Round Twelve [18]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: 5+1 Things, Adoption, Crush at First Sight, Families of Choice, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Gossip, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trope Bingo Round 12, references to flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 21:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Five scenes on Jazz's way to becoming part of Prowl's family and the one where it becomes official.





	Five Times Jazz Watched Prowl's Family from Outside & The Time He Was Invited to Join It

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Trope Bingo](https://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org) [Round 12](https://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/tag/round+twelve). Prompt: Chosen Family

#### One

Jazz was the shiny new mech on base, so it wasn't surprising that he drew a bit more of a crowd than usual when he hung out in the rec areas, or the mess hall. It wasn't so much of one that, in the middle of a story about the time he'd been working security in Proximax, he wasn't distracted by the sight, unusual these days, of an adult with a juvenile. It was hard to tell regional structure-type with juveniles since they didn't have most of the superstructure that gave it away, but the adult was likely from Praxus. If the adult was the juvenile's parent, then that meant the kid had been sparked not long before Praxus's destruction.

"I can't believe anyone lets that poor juvenile stay with Prowl," someone muttered, and was shushed by someone else.

Jazz recognized the name, naturally. No one was in the Autobots for long without hearing the name Prowl of Praxus. He was known as a hard-nosed, brilliant tactician, sometimes blunt to the point of rudeness especially if someone wasn’t behaving as per protocol. Primus help whoever he found slacking off, playing pranks, or running an illegal still. The nastier whispers claimed he was nothing more than a drone with an unusually sophisticated AI, or that something was missing from his emotional protocols. Jazz figured it wasn't anything more than gossip: Prowl had to make unpopular decisions or provide disciplinary action, so of course some people were going to get nasty.

"Any reason Commander," and Jazz stressed the title ever so slightly, "Prowl shouldn't be taking care of the kid? Looks alright to me."

"Come on, Jazz," Moonracer protested. "You have to know what Prowl's like. Poor Bluestreak there probably has to follow super strict rules, and he can't be allowed to have much fun!"

"Yeah," Powerglide added. "I heard Bluestreak got assigned to Prowl for some kind of security reason."

"No, that can't be right," Chromia corrected, frowning slightly. "Prowl adopted Bluestreak, he's taking care of a war orphan. You two are just mad because he put you on monitor duty after you knocked over those crates racing in the shipping yard."

"For two whole weeks!" Moonracer protested. Prowl glanced over, and she hurriedly lowered her voice. "Nothing even got broken – not too badly, anyway."

"Prowl almost never talks to anybody socially, either," Powerglide said. "Can you imagine what that's like for a juvenile? Just sitting there, probably studying or doing chores, with your parent not talking to you?"

Jazz was watching Prowl and Bluestreak the whole time he was letting the gossip flow over and around him. Bluestreak was at ease in Prowl's company, chattering happily away. When Prowl put a hand on his shoulder, he smiled, acting like a juvenile who was used to and expected affection, nothing else.

Prowl favoured Bluestreak with a warm, kind, smile in return but none of the gossips at Jazz's table seemed to catch it. Jazz did, and his spark gave a little quaver.

#### Two

The quaver turned into a full-on accelerated spin for a turn or two when Prowl brought Bluestreak to a movie night a few mega-cycles later. It was a mid-length movie, six cycles, and it started late, meaning it ended well after what Jazz thought a strict parent would have made bedtime. But Prowl showed up with Bluestreak, who didn't stray far from his creator but talked to anyone who came near enough. Bluestreak was friendly toward everyone but a few times, maybe with strangers, he glanced at Prowl as if for approval before speaking.

Jazz didn't think Prowl restricted him from talking to anyone. He thought Bluestreak was seeking reassurance, not permission, and Prowl was readily providing it.

"He should just let the kid talk," a mech Jazz didn't know but whose FFID said was Cliffjumper muttered next to Jazz.

"Ain't refused to let him talk to anyone yet," Jazz said. "Bluestreak doesn't check for everyone, either. Kid's just checking in on people he doesn't know, I'd say."

"Why would he do that unless he's been told to?" Cliffjumper asked suspiciously.

Jazz shrugged. "Shy? Making sure the stranger's okay? Trauma?"

"Trauma? That young?"

"Ain't a mech on Cybertron these days who hasn't got nightmares from something," Jazz noted. "Age doesn't matter."

The lights flickered to tell everyone it was time to find a seat. Jazz, who liked to people-watch, took up a place at the back. Prowl and Bluestreak were a row ahead and a little to the left of him, close enough he could hear their soft conversation. Sure, it wasn't polite to eavesdrop, but a mech didn't get into Spec Ops on account of their manners.

"I think you'll be alright with this movie," Prowl said. "But if anything is too much, just let me know, and we can leave. Remember the comm signal we worked out?" A pause while the signal was, presumably, tested. "Good. Just use that or tell me if it's too much."

"Okay, Prowl. Would we have to leave for the whole thing or just the-the – "

"I've watched this one before, so we could just leave for the scene that bothered you, then come back and try again if you wanted," Prowl reassured Bluestreak in a quiet voice. "Okay?"

"Yeah." Bluestreak's chin lifted in determination. "I'm going to sit through the whole thing this time, though."

They didn't leave, and Bluestreak didn't say anything through the movie. There was a point where Bluestreak briefly hid his face against Prowl's chest, and Prowl comforted him. It was a shame, Jazz thought, they weren't sitting up front. Seeing the supposedly cold-sparked or even spark-less tactician cuddle and reassure his distressed creation would have shut down a few vocalizers.

Primus, Jazz hadn't even said two words to Prowl and here he was getting all defensive. Were a handsome face, soft smile, and attentive parenting all it took to attract him these days?

Despite the dark, he saw Prowl briefly nuzzle Bluestreak's helm, and Jazz melted.

Guess so.

#### Three

There shouldn't have been anyone there that time of night. That was why Jazz picked the cycle he did to use the track and get his racing fix in. The stifled, panicked sounds and rattle of armour against a metal wall were noises that shouldn't have been there.

Jazz drew his weapon and stealthily made his way into the ramp-well where the source of the noise was. He didn't know what to expect – someone injured, maybe? – but it hadn't been Prowl's kid curled up on the floor, arms on his knees and hiding his face, obviously caught up in the grip of a panic attack.

Jazz transformed his speakers out and played a series of low, soothing tones that gradually rose in pitch. He hoped it would both help calm Bluestreak down and alert him to Jazz's presence without startling him. Jazz crouched down so he was closer to Bluestreak's sightline and not looming. It took a few minutes, but finally, Bluestreak peeked up over his arms and saw him.

"Hey," Jazz said gently. "Bluestreak, right? Prowl's kid?" Bluestreak nodded. "Don't think we've been introduced all formal-like but I'm Jazz. I've seen you around."

"I-I've seen you too. Hi," Bluestreak got out.

"Hi yourself," Jazz said, nudging the volume on his speakers down but keeping the same soothing tones playing. "Looks like you're having a bit of a rough time. S'okay, think everyone's been there. D'you want me to wait with you till your creator gets here?"

"I-I – I just want to get out of here."

"Okay, sure." Jazz nodded. "Want me to walk you home?" Bluestreak hesitated for a nano-klik, then nodded. "Whenever you're ready."

It took a klik before Bluestreak stood up, shaky but not hurt. He'd gotten his adolescent upgrades recently and was starting to look more Praxian. He hugged himself, not saying much, till they got to the officer's quarters where he lived with Prowl. Even with the walk he was trembling just enough the door didn't recognize his palm print, so Jazz sounded the visitor's chime instead.

Prowl took only a few nano-kliks to answer, and his polite expression morphed into a concerned frown as soon as he took in Bluestreak.

"I tried," Bluestreak blurted out before either adult could say anything. "It didn't work."

Well, that didn't make sense to Jazz, but Prowl got it because he nodded and drew Bluestreak close. "We'll work on it some more. It's okay." Prowl's attention flicked to Jazz. "Jazz, was he hurt? Do you know what happened?"

Jazz shook his head. "Nope. Found him mid-panic, helped him home. Didn't ask what set it off, didn't want it to start up again."

"Yes, that's correct. Thank you," Prowl said gratefully. Bluestreak echoed him, slightly muffled because he had his face hidden in Prowl's shoulder.

"You're welcome, both of you." Jazz took a half-step back. "I'm gonna go, let you two get settled. Okay if I check in on Bluestreak tomorrow?"

Bluestreak nodded silently. It was Prowl who answered, "yes, please do."

#### Four

Jazz got promoted to an equal rank with Prowl, and it was in the first cycle of his first shift that Prowl showed up to ask him out. After Jazz had taken a post-flashback, post-panic attack Bluestreak back to his creator, the saboteur and the tactician had struck up a friendship, but differences in rank meant it couldn't be any more than that.

The only reason Prowl asked Jazz out instead of the other way around was that he got to it first. Jazz was pretty sure the new head of Spec Ops going to the commander of Strat-Tac Operations asking for a date in the first five kliks of his first shift wasn't the best impression to make. (Not like half the base didn't think they were fragging already anyway.) Jazz had said 'yes,' and they'd been seeing each other regularly ever since. That meant Jazz had also been seeing more of Bluestreak, who was surprised his creator was dating but okay with it. Mostly.

"Bluestreak's creators did not abandon him," Prowl explained, sitting with Jazz in Prowl and Bluestreak's quarters, "but he does have some fears around abandonment due to the nature of their deaths. Be patient with him and understand that Bluestreak is my priority."

"Yeah, of course," Jazz said. "I mean, he's your kid, he's gotta come first."

Besides that, now that Jazz was command staff he had clearance to know Bluestreak's real history: not just a survivor of Praxus but the one that had been forced to watch the destruction, rescued by Autobots, fostered and then adopted by Prowl. It had been classified to keep Bluestreak out of the public optic while he matured and healed as much as he could, things he was still going through.

"I know many think I was ordered to adopt Bluestreak for some manner of security reason," Prowl told Jazz. "But it's not true. We chose each other."

"Blue's a lucky mech," Jazz said.

Prowl smiled. "So am I. Twice over, I think?"

"Yeah," Jazz answered with a soft smile. "Twice over."

Prowl kissed him, and it might have gone further except Bluestreak came in, already talking a mega-mile a klik and dropped down on the couch next to his creator with a breathless, "hi, Jazz!" Prowl gave Jazz a 'see what I mean?' look, mouth quirked in a smile, and was quickly occupied with a story about Bluestreak racing with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker had loaned Bluestreak a movie, and the adolescent wanted to know if they could watch it now.

"I'm okay with it if you are," Jazz said to Prowl's questioning look. "It's a good flick, I wouldn't mind seeing it again."

Prowl relented. "Go put it in, Bluestreak."

Bluestreak did, then came back and wriggled into a spot between Prowl and Jazz. Jazz let himself be shifted, only regretting the separation from Prowl a little. Prowl put an arm around Bluestreak and brushed Jazz's arm with his fingertips.

Jazz hadn't been so content in meta-cycles.

#### Five

Every Autobot but Jazz, and probably Optimus Prime, was surprised when Prowl let Bluestreak participate in a sharpshooting competition even though he was still an adolescent. Bluestreak had a couple of meta-cycles before he'd get his adult upgrades, which was when a mech got any specialized software or hardware for a profession installed. Unlike the rest of the competitors, Bluestreak didn't even have a basic targeting package installed. He'd have to aim at the targets manually while everyone else would have access to sophisticated software or the ability to network with their weapons.

"The poor kid's being set up to fail," Powerglide opined, holding forth to his fellow gossips in the mess hall. "He can't even run the most basic targeting program yet! You've been training him, Moonracer. You must agree with me, right?"

"Not this time, Powerglide," she said and tossed back the rest of her cube. "Bluestreak might not have the software, but he's got the skill. He hits the target on the range every time, no problem."

"Yeah, but that's on the range. The pressure's going to be entirely different when Bluestreak's up against mecha like you," Powerglide argued. "Prowl shouldn't have pushed him into it, there's no way Bluestreak can handle it."

Jazz had enough and interrupted whatever Moonracer was going to say next, appearing behind them and tapping the table with his knuckles to get their attention. Startling them was just a bonus.

"That's enough," he said sternly. "That's an officer and his creation you're talking about. I can tell you Prowl's not pushing Bluestreak into anything, and as for handling it – well, Bluestreak might just surprise you. Now find something else to talk about."

Bluestreak talked for a solid two cycles before he got to the competition, but once he got there, he was silent and focused. Adolescent or not, targeting software or not, he absolutely _smoked_ every other participant with a skill Jazz was absolutely sure now was an outlier ability. Against live targets he would have been absolutely lethal, but the idea of Bluestreak on the battlefield made something in Jazz run cold. It was probably inevitable, with the way the war was going, but Jazz wanted to be wrong about that, and he knew Prowl did too.

Bluestreak was all chatter and smiles for the award ceremony and found his creator immediately afterward, ignoring Prowl's dignity and rank and hugging him.

"I'm very, very proud of you, Bluestreak" Prowl told him, hugging him back, and Bluestreak beamed. "You did exceptionally well." Jazz hoped that word of Prowl's praise and show of affection spread through the base as fast as the gossip did.

Prowl also whispered something to Bluestreak that Jazz didn't catch but, when he wound up with his arms full of happy adolescent, could guess at.

"I'm proud of you too," Jazz told him. "Really proud, Bluestreak my mech." Over Bluestreak's shoulder, he saw Prowl smiling warmly at both of them, and his spark spun just that little bit faster.

#### \+ One

For the first time since adopting Bluestreak, Prowl was assigned off-base for a mission, if only briefly. Bluestreak was in his mid-to-late adolescence, and technically old enough to be left home alone for a few megacycles, especially in the middle of the officer's quarters. But, he still had regular nightmares, and Prowl was concerned about how he'd respond if he woke and no one was there. Bluestreak could calm himself or even get back to sleep without help, now, but he'd always had the safety net of knowing Prowl was close or at least would be back soon.

Jazz volunteered to stay with him as soon as Prowl mentioned being concerned.

"I'd hoped you would," Prowl said. "Bluestreak cares for you very deeply."

"Yeah," Jazz said, and stole a kiss. "Love you both too."

Bluestreak was in a good mood while they hung out in Prowl and Bluestreak's quarters the first evening of Prowl's mission. He did try to coax Jazz into letting him stay up an extra cycle, but Jazz bargained him down to half, which was what Jazz had been planning to give him anyway. Bluestreak didn't know that, though, and Jazz didn't mind giving him the 'victory.'

Even though the adolescent had been in a good mood, Jazz wasn't at all surprised when he heard whimpering from Bluestreak's room a couple of cycles later. Whimpering meant Bluestreak was asleep and the nightmare – or worse, flashback – might pass on its own but if it turned to keening – and it did.

Jazz headed for Bluestreak's room before he'd had time to think about it. He played the same soothing tone he had the first time he'd encountered a panicking Bluestreak, made sure he knew Jazz was there, talked him down and held him while the shaking subsided.

"Thanks, Jazz," Bluestreak said, voice muffled because his face was buried in Jazz's shoulder.

It was the least he would have done to make sure Bluestreak never had a reason to make that sound again. Jazz wanted to go back in time and kill Megatron before any of this could happen. Jazz kept rubbing Bluestreak's back soothingly, not wanting to let go yet.

"Anytime, Blue," he said quietly. "Anytime."

Prowl got back late on the final day of the mission after Bluestreak was asleep for the night.

"How was he?" Prowl asked after they'd greeted each other.

"One flashback during sleep the first night. It was a bad one, but that was it," Jazz reported.

"Good," Prowl said, obviously relieved. "I'm glad you were here." He threaded his fingers with Jazz's. "Jazz, I love you."

"Love you too, Prowler."

"And I wonder," Prowl continued, "would you like to be here every night? And morning?"

_Oh, mech, would he!_ Jazz grinned, spark surging with joy, and bumped their forehelms together. "Just been waiting for you to ask, lover. Yes, course I'll move in with you."

He only hoped Bluestreak would be okay with it: your creator's lover coming over to stay every so – well, pretty often, actually, was one thing but their moving in permanently was another. Prowl probably did too. Neither of them had to worry: Bluestreak was thrilled almost beyond words. Almost.

"You're the _best!_ " Bluestreak exclaimed, trapping Jazz in one of his iron-bear hugs.

"Guess you approve, huh, Blue?" Jazz teased, hugging him back.

"Yeah! Of course I am!" Bluestreak looked over at Prowl. "Because Creator loves you and so do I and – because now I've been chosen twice."

_Oh_. Jazz reached out and drew Prowl into the hug. "Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah. You have. Both of you. I'd choose you both every time."


End file.
